


Reunion

by Serai



Category: Elijah Wood. - Fandom, Keanu Reeves. - Fandom
Genre: Laughter, Mock jealousy, Multi, Pillow Talk, RPF - I guess, Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-14 01:57:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4545834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serai/pseuds/Serai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A kind of externalized PWP about the experience of switching fandoms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> From 2003: "I used to be a Keanu whore, now I'm an Elijah slut. What can I say? The Muse likes to dress up."

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"So tell me about him." A fingertip moves over my belly, raising a tiny runnel of cooled sweat that precedes it like a wake. He's up on one elbow, tracing words over my skin, words he'll refuse to translate. An old game.

"Tell you about who?" I ask. He raises an eyebrow at me. I snort. "No, I'm not going to tell you about him."

"Why not?" His palm falls onto my skin, and he moves it over me in slow sweeps. He watches his hand. A flush is spreading again from his chest over his neck. 

My eyes close, that feels good. "Because it's none of your business. Piss off," I murmur, as he leans into my neck, his beard brushing ever so lightly against my skin. My spine jerks and I gasp. He laughs under his breath.

"You're wrong, you know," he breathes in that down-pillow, fuck-me voice. A kiss, brief, fleshy, hot. His lips back at my ear. "You're going to tell me everything." His hand moves southward over my belly, fingers dip brazenly and press in close, and oh I yelp at the fat pulse of ovenflare, the snap of electricity. He smiles and pulls back, keeping his thumb pressed up against me, pulling me back from the edge.

I'm gasping again, and getting pissed. "Why'd you come back here?" I manage to ask, before he closes his mouth on mine and slides a knee between my thighs. I arch up, he bears down and there's nothing visible for a long expanse of seconds.

His voice is the first thing to come back to my ears. "I heard about the two of you. Just had to see for myself." It takes a minute before I realize he's laughing at me.

"Fuck you," I grin. He licks my lower lip and moves his hips. That double-hitch dip and slam of his. It takes attention to match up rhythms like that, but he's always been diligent. Oh no slouch, this guy _likes_ to drive women crazy.

"So tell me about him. Start with what he looks like," he demands. I raise an eyebrow at him now, and he smirks. "I want to hear it from you." Then he's on me, licking my neck and parting my legs. I feel dizzy, panting at the sudden change, being yanked back and forth. I cry out and he stills, and waits for me to speak.

So I try. I tell him about cream flowing over marble, about hands all flesh and how I had never really thought blue eyes all that pretty before. He slides his hands under my ass and pulls me up just so, as I whisper about a kid's energy and an ancient soul. My control staggers when he slides in, and maybe I won't be able to keep going, to finish my thought about the lightness of a voice breaking in the night, skin so pale the moonlight turns it to silver.

My hands grip his ass, and his beautiful strong thighs flex as he plows into me. He smiles again - his smile puts mine to meager shame - and kisses me, his tongue lively. He's getting off on this. Breaking the kiss, he urges me on.

And on I go, sighs and whispers about flesh and love and surprise, how the world can pivot under your feet and change in an instant. How a hand tugging me along had dragged me halfway across the world. How I'd thought I knew what laughter was, but I'd really had no idea.

And the fucking. He wants to know all about that, and at first I can't tell him. But he gets his evil look on, and begins to pull back and slow down, and he knows just how, and in moments I'm whimpering and then I give.

I tell him about giggling for what seemed like hours as the kissing lesson became real sex. Nightclubbing again after so many years, and a night when we'd had each other on a dark stairwell, drums and bass pounding through him as he came in me. His little silvery body, wriggling like an otter in my bed, and his mouth addicted to every surface it can touch. The delicious shock every time he rasps "fuck" with such urgency, his favorite come-word, how sweetly banal is that?

But I can't go on, and he's getting that glazed look that says he's close, and I just want to be here, with him. His shoulders and arms stretch over me, and I dip my head to mouth his chest. I open and open and open, oh how long you've been gone, baby. I dig my nails into his skin, and he winces and climbs higher. And we press and grind and higher and higher and oh there and yeah babe yeah yeah oh

He tenses steel tight and pulls his face away, hiding his eyes as he always has. I burn and buzz, floating, watching him as he jerks, then falls onto me. Heat, wet heat, and we lie tangled for the space of several thick, breathing minutes. His voice pulls itself lazily up from between us.

"I wanna meet him," and I laugh.

"You're joking. There's no way you're meeting him." My eyes close, and I'm ready to float away on a drowse when 

"I'd say it's a bit late for that, wouldn't you?" 

I startle, snapping my head up and turning towards the door. He's there, oh shit he's standing right there. Calm blue eyes gaze down at me, and a smile quirks the Rosetti lips. My skin burns as a laugh rumbles against my chest, and the arms around me loosen and pull away. 

"Hey, babe," my lover says.

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End file.
